


Slave!MJN

by Anonymous



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Community: cabinpres_fic, Gen, vaguely dark Carolyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:25:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Probably not quite what the <a href="http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/1249.html?thread=1627361#t1627361">OP wanted</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Slave!MJN

"Then feel free to serve for any other company who'd take a pilot who failed his licence seven times, Martin. Oh, right, you're _not_ free. Oops, my mistake."

And with that and a little smirk, she left the flight deck.

Martin slumped in his seat, the growling of his stomach more eloquent than any words.

"Hm," Douglas began. "I would offer to share the cheese tray with you, Captain, but I've already won it from you this morning, twice. I know how much you despise being shown pity..."

Martin's throat made a funny noise.

"You know, you could always..."

"No!" Martin shrieked instantly. "I'm not that kind of slave, I'm an airline pilot!"

"Pompously put. The cynical old bat only has one plane - going by a very generous definition of what constitutes a plane - and you can't put one plane in a line. If anything, MJN is an air _dot_."

"Regardless, I'm not... doing _that_ ," he insisted indignantly.

Douglas shrugged, and ostentatiously unwrapped one piece of cheese.

"I've been told I'm rather... tasty, as far as these things go. And there'd be really tasty cheese afterwards, if you find crème à la Richardson offensive to your palate after all."

"You know," Martin said shrewdly, trying not to stare at the cheese, "for all the bragging you do about your horde of past conquests, you're trying awfully hard to get into my trousers."

"I'm not. I'm trying to get into your mouth."

Martin's throat made that funny noise again.

"You can't tell me you've never done it before."

"Yes, I can!"

"You can _say_ it, but..."

"Because it's the truth! I have never done it, and I never will!"

"Hm. How can you be so sure of the conditions of your 'service'?"

"I. Um. I just... can. That's- that's not unusual, is it? It's not."

"Oh no." Douglas was aghast. "Don't tell me you signed up for it!"

"I won't!"

"Because it's the truth?"

"Because I- don't want to."

"Good Lord. And I thought your story couldn't be more pathetic than what I suspected it was."

"What did you suspect?"

"Oh, you know, the usual - poor family, too many children, the useless one gets sold."

Silence followed.

"This is the part where you yell indignantly that you were not useless. Martin?"

Martin's lower lip was trembling, and getting bitten under Martin's teeth. Martin's stomach growled again, a comic dissonance to his tragic figure.

Douglas sighed. "Have some cheese. I seem to have lost half my appetite."

"Yeah, well, I've lost all of mine," Martin murmured, voice somewhere between a shaky whisper and a reproachful retort.

Douglas waved the cheese tray in front of Martin.

"Come on, Captain. It's too late for your brain, but it will at least keep your body functioning."

Reluctantly, Martin took one of the squidgy bits.

"It was the only way to pay for the flying lessons!" he explained around the mouthful. "And then no one wanted to hire me, so it was the only way to fly..."

"Well, that certainly explains why you stick to the glamourous world of MJN..."

"Indeed. What I'm curious about, Douglas," Martin said, taking some courage and strength from the Emmental, "is why _you_ stick with us."

"Ah. I suggest that the Captain devotes his attention to devouring those generously provided bits of cheese, and not pursue this line of questioning any further."

"All right."

The 'for now' hung unspoken in the air between them.

* * *

"A _tent_? A _shared_ tent?"

Carolyn rolled her eyes.

"Stop saying 'tent', it's beginning to lose its meaning."

Martin went even redder, and his hands flailed helplessly between his and Douglas' hats.

"Mistress, we may be slaves, but we are still trained pilots! You have _some_ obligations!"

"I am providing you with food and lodgings."

"A two people tent," Douglas intervened grouchily, "two small people - that we'll be sharing between three adults, including your only son."

"Wow! I'm sharing with the chaps? That's brilliant!"

"Well, what more do you want? You can say you're being cared for like family."

Douglas narrowed his eyes.

"That's not as flattering as you seem to think, Mrs Knapp-Shappey."

"Oh, feel free to just call me 'Mistress', like Martin does."

"Three more years, _Mistress_ ," growled Douglas, "three more years and that's it."

"Oh, but only if you make proof of good behaviour, Douglas." Carolyn's smile thinned. "Don't forget what got you into trouble in the first place. How were those fishcakes last month? And did _Milo_ enjoy those orchids? Very masculine, by the way, I'd pictured you as more of a roses type."

Douglas' mouth pursed in a grimace, while Martin's opened and closed. Arthur looked between them, with a regular look of incomprehension.

Carolyn smirked and left with an expert twirl of her dress.

Martin's mouth opened again, and Douglas spoke quickly. "Not a word, Captain, unless you want to share the open sky with the hyenas instead of a cosy tent with your... coworkers."

"Not much difference, apart from the tent," Martin muttered.

"Was that a word, Martin?"

"No, no, I was just wondering who's going to take the middle. We should probably let Arthur, given that he's the only one in this mess who didn't have a choice about getting into it..."

"Oh no! Do I have to? It's just- the middle is so ugh, it's where it gets the hottest, and you get all squished between the others!"

Martin looked resolutely down, and pulled his patchy coat around him tighter.

"Right," Douglas said, "wise as always, Arthur. Well, we'll just have to punish Martin and squish his bony insolent person between us."

"Thanks, Douglas," Martin muttered.

"Don't mention it. Literally."

After that, the night passed in blissful silence - well, apart from the hyenas, the wind, the motorcycles, and the other aeroplanes.


End file.
